


telephone wire

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: I'm not entirely sure how to tag this, M/M, so please read the beginning author's note for warnings and the like!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: On a car ride, Fitz can't help but feel like he missed his chance to connect with his mother.





	telephone wire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So like I said in the fic tags, I'm not entirely sure how to tag this. It surrounds the time period after Fitz's coming out to his mother, and while she is not homophobic, there's a couple of microagressions in this chapter that may make you uncomfy. There's also a character death. If you need more information before deciding to read or not, feel free to message me on [tumblr](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/) and I'd be happy to talk about it. :)

Fitz is sitting in the passenger seat of his mother’s car, and he feels different.

It’s never been like this with his mum before - there’s never been awkward silence between them. They’ve always just been able to talk to each other. Their relationship is supposed to be warm and easy and comfortable, and he’s mucked it up.

He turns to rest his forehead against the window, watching as the countryside unfolds before him. His eyes scrape up from the rolling hills - the grass needs to be cut, he notes idly - to the telephone wires that stretch above, thin black lines cutting through the multicolor sunset. He traces the telephone wires for a while, trying to think of something, anything, to say.

 _Mum, do you want to meet my boyfriend?_ or _His name is Lance_ or _I think you would like him_.

There’s a traffic light up ahead. Fitz takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He’ll say something at the light, when they’re stopped. Maybe then it’ll be easier to talk.

The car slows, stops, and -

“Where do you want to go, lovey?” Fitz’s mum asks him, false cheeriness in his voice.

“I dunno,” Fitz mumbles. He doesn’t look at her, all bravery gone with the sound of her voice. His gaze bounces back to the telephone wires, and he swallows past the lump in his throat.

For some reason the awkward silence is worse than yelling would have been. Outright rejection is, at least, a clean break. But now, his mum seems - kind of afraid of him? Like she doesn’t know how to talk to him, doesn’t know how to relate to him. He’s still her son. He’s still Leo.

He’s just Leo, who is gay.

This is not the first time he’s been treated like he’s changed. After his brain injury, no one had known how to talk to him, either.

The car starts moving again, and Fitz watches as relics of his childhood float past his window. There’s the store where he bought too much candy, and there’s the sign for his old primary school, and there’s… there’s all the memories of who he used to be, the person his mother might still want him to be.

The sun is dipping lower and lower, and there are edges of purple in the sky, threats of the coming night. He feels like he’s running out of time.

He goes back to S.H.I.E.L.D. tomorrow. He had thought telling her near the end of the trip had been a good idea, so if the worst happened, it wouldn’t ruin the whole vacation, but now… he just wants a little longer.

“I knew a girl in uni. Her name was Edith and she was, um… attracted to the fairer sex.” _She was gay_. Fitz wishes his mum would just say the word. He’s _gay_ , and Edith was _gay_. It’s just a word, Fitz knows, but he doesn’t want to be buried under a layer of euphemism.

He just wants her to see him. Is that so much to ask?

“I wonder where she is now,” his mum hums, mostly to herself.

There’s another long, limping silence.

“You know, Leo, a lot of people have…” She stops short of a full sentence, and Fitz turns to look at her, trying to figure out what she’s saying.

She never ties up the loose end, and Fitz presses his lips together in a thin line, turning back to his window. He wants to say something, but he’s worried that anything he says will just make things worse. He doesn’t know what to do.

There’s another light coming up. Maybe he’ll say something then. Something about - about the weather. It’s been clear this whole week, and that’s atypical for this time of year. Yes, the weather.

He’s talking about the weather with his own mum.

“Have I told you about my latest knitting project, dear? You remember Mrs. Connelly from down the road, don’t you? Well her daughter’s having twins in October, and…”

The rest of his mother’s sentence smudges in the air. He knows the words are being said, but Fitz is getting desperate. They’re turning around, heading back towards home. Tomorrow morning he’s leaving, and there’s still something _missing_.

He knows it doesn’t have to happen immediately. Letting his mother have her space and her time to process what he told her isn’t a bad thing. He has _time_.

As many times as Fitz tells himself that, he can’t make himself believe it.

They roll up to the house, and his mum smiles. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” And she walks up the path to their house, humming some vaguely familiar song, and that’s that.

\---

Fitz feels hollow.

His mum is dead.

He still hasn’t accepted it, really, but he’s standing in front of her headstone, and…

And that car ride was their last chance, and he can’t stop thinking about it. What he could have said, what he could have done. Anything to keep from feeling like this.

He’s shooed away most everyone, but Hunter stands a few feet back - not close enough to be smothering, but still close enough that Fitz knows he’s there.

He stares at the headstone a few minutes longer, sniffling. His mum would be so furious if she saw he was wiping his nose on the sleeve of his expensive suit, Fitz thinks to himself. That makes him cry harder.

“Here.” Hunter presses a tissue into his hand and Fitz accepts it, wiping his tears and then his nose.

Hunter wraps his arm around Fitz’s shoulder, and Fitz sinks into his boyfriend, resting his head against Hunter as he continues to cry.

“I just feel like there’s something I’m forgetting,” Fitz says after a while. “Like - like there had to have been something. She - she didn’t _see_ me.”

“Hey,” Hunter whispers, kissing the top of Fitz’s head softly. “She saw you.”

Fitz makes a soft noise of dissent.

“She called me when you left,” Hunter explains softly. “She asked me about books and stuff that she could read, to try to understand better. And she also tried to give me the shovel talk, but then she asked if that was homophobic. So then… well, the important part is, she didn’t want to talk to you until she made sure she was doing things right.”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Fitz says. He had hated the awkward silence so much, and any attempt to connect would have been better than that. Tears are streaking down his cheeks again, and Hunter squeezes him hard.

“I know, love,” Hunter murmurs. “But she saw you. I promise.”

Fitz nods miserably. There’s still a weight sitting on his shoulders, of all the things that should have happened, but it’s lighter than before.

His mother had seen him, if only for a little bit. And that would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Home is a musical that I should not be allowed to listen to. That's really all I have to say.


End file.
